The Things I Would Do For You
by Robyn-in-the-air
Summary: Later he would look back to that moment as the first time he realized that the man who'd killed his parents, who had mercilessly murdered his mother, was still human. And that scared him shitless. In which Tony really just wants to be left alone, but soon realizes that's impossible when you're surrounded by nosy super-soldiers. Post-civil war angst and fluff. Bucky/Tony.
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own any of these characters or Marvel. :)**

Too much. It was too much.

The world spun on its axis, the colors around him swirled to form a kaleidoscopic mess. His hand clenched on the black leather of the worn sofa he leaned against, the same sofa they'd spent hours on for movie night.

 _You can't tell me Star Trek is better than Star Wars, Barton, that's blasphemy._

Swallowing hard and firmly keeping his eyes closed, Tony fought back the onslaught of fond memories, of simpler times, of a shared home.

He opened his eyes. Forced himself to take in the rich red walls, the cream white marble of the kitchen against the sharp black of the counter.

"Tony?" It was Rhodey.

"Yeah?" he replied softly, his eyes wandering across what used to be his home.

Silence. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he breathed, finally dragging his gaze to Rhodey and trying for a small smile.

Rhodey frowned. "You sure?"

"Yes, my concerned bestie, I am absolutely fine. Now, isn't it time for your physical therapy? Come on now, Rhodey, you can't skip these things. You don't want to make your therapist angry, do you? Come on," he rambled, ushering his friend outside.

Rhodey frowned, but allowed himself to be guided out.

He stopped at the doorway once Rhodey was ahead of him. Looked back at the blood red walls, the clinical white of the kitchen in contrast with the dark black of the counter. Sighed heavily, then walked out.

* * *

He was just going to live in the lab forever. It seemed like a logical plan. Get food from JARVIS ordering takeout, sleep from the convenient bed he had placed into the corner. As for boredom, there was enough in his lab to keep him busy for months.

The Avengers had been back in the tower for two weeks now and Tony hadn't seen them once.

They hadn't attempted to see him once.

So there he remained, locked away in his tower, working for hours on everything and nothing. Eventually JARVIS refused to order any more food from outside, leaving Tony starving, coffee-deprived, and cursing his past self for embedding that into his AI.

Hovering over the "enter" button on the password device, he bit his lip and threw a dirty look at the ceiling of his sanctuary. Tony pressed the button and stepped out of his lab for the first time in two weeks.

He hated it.

A piercing vulnerability struck him in the chest and he hunched over almost unintentionally, wrapping his arms around himself. His heart burned and he fought the panicked urge to run back into his safe place and stay there forever.

The mechanic reached the open kitchen and stopped, hearing the distinct sounds of laughing and loud voices.

It was instantaneous, the silence that fell over his former family as he entered the room. They stared at him for about 30 seconds before awkwardly glancing at each other for guidance. Steve, ever the united front, stuttered a quiet, "Tony…"

"Sorry," he said. "Didn't mean to… interrupt. Just, you know, needed some coffee, sweet sweet coffee…" he trailed off and focused all of his attention on the half-filled coffee pot on the counter. Tried to ignore the pointed stares he felt on the back of his neck, he gripped the pot tight enough to turn his knuckles white and poured it carefully into a cup.

"It's good to see you again, Tony." Steve. That was _obviously_ Steve.

Clint scoffed.

 _And there it was._

"Good to see him again? What the hell are you playing at, Steve? It's definitely _not_ good to see him again. Now you know who would have been good to see again? _My family._ My kids, and my wife, that's who."

Tony fixed his eyes on the coffee and felt himself instinctively curl up. He blinked once or twice to the liquid in his hands, then quietly muttered, "I'm sorry."

"Sorry. Because 'sorry' makes everything okay. Saying 'sorry' fixes everything you _broke._ Just go back to your little hidey-hole, Stark, and leave the rest of us here alone." Oh, good, Wanda's talking now.

"Yeah," he sighed. "Yeah, I'll do that."

And walked back to the lab with his head hung low.

* * *

Whenever Tony thought things were finally getting better, he was getting the hang of this whole living in the lab thing, it was like the universe just wanted to say _screw you, Stark, I want to see you suffer._

James Buchanan Barnes lived with them now.

They'd taken a vote, apparently, one of those that he wasn't in on anymore.

Things had been simpler since that day in the kitchen. He'd stayed holed up in his lab until it was too much or Pepper dragged him out for a meeting, and the others avoided him in any way possible.

Well, everyone except _Steve._

It was like he knew exactly when Tony came out of his hole in the ground, and was instantly there, standing uncertainly, giving him those _damn_ puppy eyes.

God, he hated those eyes.

(No, he didn't)

The genius didn't go out as much though. He didn't think he could handle seeing Barnes in a casual setting without remembering, _remembering._

 _Murderous eyes, raised fists, blood, pain pain painpainpain,_

 _ **He's my friend.**_

 _Shattered inside, it hurts, why, I didn't mean to, it hurts so badI'msorry,_

 _ **So was I.**_

He wasn't that much of a masochist.

* * *

" _Tony, you need to talk to them."_

Tony rolled his eyes and manipulated the hologram with one hand while he held the phone to his ear with the other hand.

"No, I'm pretty sure I'm good, Brucie, and they don't seem to be that bothered, either," he said.

" _Tony. You need to apologize, that's the only way any of this is going to get better."_ Bruce's voice held a frustrated note.

Tony was silent for a few seconds.

" _Tony?"_

"Why do I…? I mean, it's not just- never mind." He cut himself off as a voice whispered in his mind.

 _Isn't it though, Tony? Isn't it your fault?_

"I gotta go, Brucie," he rushed.

" _Tony-"_

He hung up.

* * *

It was nearing midnight. Tony cringed at the obnoxiously loud sound of the microwave whirring. It cut through the silence and dark of the kitchen and probably woke everybody on the floor.

He scrunched up his face in disgust at the boxed lasagna he took out of the microwave when it beeped and cursed his inability to remember groceries.

"Mr… Stark?"

He whirled around at the rough voice.

It was Barnes.

The engineer's jaw dropped open and he fumbled with the box in his hand.

"Mr. Barnes," he breathed, wide-eyed.

"I wante-" Bucky started. Tony cut him off before he could utter anything else.

"It's fine, whatever, I'm just going to go back to the lab, it's- it's all good. I-I'm sorry. Didn't mean to come in your w-way." Tony internally cursed at the stuttering. He walked backwards until he hit the doorway and raised the corners of his lips for a millisecond before disappearing out of sight.

He leaned against the wall next to the door and slid down.

Sighed.

 _This is going to be a long night._

* * *

The next time he met - or was forced to meet - Bucky Barnes was by pure coincidence and induced a whole new level of cursing at the universe from Tony.

It might have been inadvertently his fault, though.

Just a little.

Pepper had been bothering him about the faulty elevator for weeks but he'd never really gotten around to it, or even calling some elevator guy to fix it.

He probably should have.

Tony had been fast-walking back from a meeting Pepper had forced him to go to, ignoring almost every stare he _knew_ he was getting from his employes in the lobby, and clenching his hands in frustration.

He pressed the "down" button on the wall and fidgeted restlessly, fighting the strong urge to fix his pants.

 _Wow, I have sorely underestimated the extreme importance of multiple bathrooms on this floor._

Yes, he needed to pee.

After hours (20 seconds), the doors finally slid open and Tony groaned internally, cursing his very existence, the universe, _JARVIS,_ as they revealed the bane of Tony's existence: Barnes.

It was time to choose. Which was more important to him: peeing and having to face _him_ , or avoiding the absolute humiliation that he would probably experience _when_ he peed his pants in front of the many people in the lobby.

Sometimes Tony really wanted to ask the universe why it constantly chose him, _of all people,_ to play cosmic jokes on.

He walked into the elevator stiffly.

Looked forwards.

Clenched his buttcheeks.

Watched the doors close and essentially seal his fate.

 _I hate you,_ he thought.

He wasn't sure exactly to whom he was directing that statement to, but it was someone up _there,_ that was for sure.

* * *

It was more than a little awkward.

He carefully avoided Bucky's gaze and focused on thinking about anything _but_ his extremely full bladder.

"So…" Barnes started hesitantly. He stopped.

There was a muffling silence for about 20 seconds and then:

"Um… what?" Tony muttered, unable to bear the overwhelming quiet on top of his desperate need to go to the bathroom.

"I just…. I mean, I understand, but- I just wanted to than-"

 **Crash.**

The elevator was shrouded in darkness.

 _Oh no._

 _Oh no, no, nonononono._

The only sounds they could hear were each other's breaths and a few faint creaks from the roof.

Barnes's breathing picked up. In the darkness of the space they were in, Tony glimpsed him sliding down the metal wall. The metal fingers of his left arm tapped consistently and manically against the floor.

"Uh. You… you okay, Barnes?" he asked.

No response.

After a minute of Barnes quietly panicking and not replying to Tony's question, he approached the soldier calmly and bent down in front of what he assumed to be his face. "You sure about that?"

Barnes opened his previously clenched shut eyes to stare agitatedly at Tony. His scared blue orbs induced a small ache in the mechanic's heart and he inwardly grimaced.

"Breathe, Barnes," he said soothingly, "breathe. Come on, you got this. Breathe with me. In. Out, that's it. In. Out."

At some point during the assassin's panic attack, Tony's hand drifted up and rested comfortingly on Barnes's flesh arm.

Barnes sighed. Probably unintentionally, he reached up to grip Tony's arm and held on with a desperation akin to a drowning man holding onto a piece of wood floating in the ocean.

Barnes followed his breathing for the next few minutes; he calmed down just as Tony removed his hand from his arm.

"You good now?" Tony broke the silence hesitantly, not certain of what had just occurred.

"Yeah," was the only reply.

"Okay… then."

And that was that.

.

 **.**

 **.**

Later, he would look back to that moment as the first time he realized that the man who'd killed his parents, who had mercilessly murdered his _mother,_ was still human.

And that scared him shitless.

 **Thanks for reading! Review if you liked it! I will most likely be writing more...**


	2. Chapter 2

So... yeah this chapter doesn't really go into Bucky/Tony, but wait for it, it's coming, I promise. (I think).

I don't own Hold Back The River by James Bay.

I also don't own Marvel or any of these characters.

* * *

It was a bad day.

The lab seemed nothing but a vast prison and Tony knew things were bad when his safe place wasn't… well, safe anymore.

He grimaced, trying to hold back the emotions inside. There wasn't a specific reason for it happening that specific moment, just a lonely, overwhelming urge to sleep, to go away, to fall and keep falling forever.

Flashes and memories and little things. Little things in his mind, details brought to the forefront. The red of his mother's dress, the flash of ocean blue eyes as the artist's hands crushed him, no mercy.

* * *

 _Lonely water, lonely water,_

 _Won't you let us wander,_

 _Let us hold each other?_

* * *

Stumbling out of his jail, he slid down to the corner of the hallway. Curled up in a ball, hands fisted in his hair like he wanted to tear it down, like it would hurt less than the thoughts in his mind, than the reality of his life.

It was his mother's birthday.

* * *

 _Hold back the river, let me look in our eyes,_

 _Hold back the river so I stop for a minute and see where you hide…_

* * *

In introspection, he should have been expecting a panic attack since the moment he woke up, it was a tradition by now. Wake up, sleep, drink, vomit, sleep, hyperventilate till he can't breathe sleep.

Every year like clockwork.

He gritted his teeth and tilted his head back to gaze at the ceiling in an effort to break himself out of the haze, the glaze covering his mind, like everything was blurry and the world was going to run away if he didn't catch up, didn't try _so_ hard _, Mama, I promise Daddy won't know, please come with me. It'll be fun, I promise!_

A timid voice interrupted his gradual spiral into madness: "Tony?"

Tony's eyes flickered wide open, shifting up to see the ragged face of none other than Captain America, the perfect picture of concern. He scoffed bitterly.

"Oh, Tony."

"Yup, that's me. The one who can't handle it, can't handle the mess I created on my own, _everything I ruined._ I do that, have I ever mentioned? That's me, the man who ruins everything close to him. Stay away, Stevie or I might ruin you again, I might break you and I don't… I don't… " he trailed off, his head lolling to stare at the ceiling once again.

* * *

 _Tried to keep you close to me,_

 _But life got in between._

* * *

"Shut up, Tony," was all Steve said, before crouching down and wrapping his arms around the distraught mechanic.

Tony struggled for a few seconds before succumbing to the warm comfort, the safety of Steve's steady embrace. He pushed his face deeper into Steve's neck, unwilling to let go.

* * *

 _Tried to square not being there,_

 _But it's there that I should've been._

* * *

The words were stuck in his throat, lodged in there and refusing to be let out. He took a shaky breath and sobbed lightly into Steve's shoulder. The tears softened the rocks in his throat and he let out a small, "I'm sorry, Stevie."

The arms around him tightened.

"I know, Tony," Steve whispered. "I know."

* * *

 _Hold back the river let me look in your eyes,_

 _Hold back the river so I,_

 _Stop for a minute and be by your side..._

* * *

Something broke in his heart, or perhaps mended, he wasn't quite sure.

* * *

 _Won't you let us wander?_

* * *

Yeah, that was short, I know. Review if you liked it!


	3. Chapter 3

**Don't own these characters or this world, nope.**

"TONY STARK!"

He cringed, turning to face her with an innocent face. "Yes, Pepper, darling, the light of my life?"

It was visible, her struggle to pull herself together and not resort to complete yelling. "How long has it been, Tony?"

Tony frowned, genuinely confused. "How long has it been since what?" he asked hesitantly.

"Since you ate, Tony! Or you know for that matter, slept _outside_ of this smelly- that's another thing, since when does your lab smell like- like- I don't even know, to be honest-"

Tony gaped at her as she continued ranting, waving her hands around so passionately, Tony was almost afraid for a second she would hit one of his bots.

"Um…" he interjected.

"No! No, no protests, you are going to get the _fuck_ out of this stupid lab and _eat_ something. Then, you are going to sleep for _at least_ 8 hours, though I'm sure once you fall asleep you won't get up for longer. Capiche?" she demanded, hands on her hips.

"Pepper…" he tried.

She raised an eyebrow.

Tony swallowed. "Coming," he relented.

She smirked. "Good."

* * *

(Sometimes Tony wondered what the world would be like if Pepper had become a Hydra agent. Then he shuddered because he was sure the psychopathic organization would have taken over the entirety of Earth.)

* * *

Tony stood in the shower, letting the hot water beat down on his exhausted muscles, fighting the urge to close his eyes.

He hadn't given himself a chance to think about "that night" since it had happened. Steve and him used to be frighteningly close before everything fell apart. He'd been one of the very few people Tony had let in. It had gone against every instinct in him when he opened himself up to the super-soldier, but he'd done it anyway, trusting in Stevie's quiet reassurances and gentle touches. It was never sexual, no. Purely platonic, though thoughts of a threesome between Steve, him, and Buc-Barnes had crossed his mind once or twice.

He struggled not to listen to the snickering, malevolent voice whispering in his mind: _I told you so_ as he dwelled on his disastrous decision of letting Steve in.

He ran his hands through his hair in frustration, trying to halt the racing thoughts in his mind. Closed his eyes, relaxed his shoulders.

Stood under the gentle water of the shower and _breathed._

 _At least you have Pepper,_ he reminded himself, _at least you have Pepper._

* * *

He fell asleep approximately 2.3 seconds after his head hit the pillow.

* * *

When he woke up, it was dark. He panicked for a second, _where's the arc reactor-_ oh. Never mind.

"JARVIS?" he muttered groggily.

"Welcome back, sir," greeted the AI. "It is currently 12:31 a.m. on Wednesday the 13th of April, 2017. You have one board meeting today at 1:00 p.m. that Ms. Potts will undoubtedly kill you if you didn't attend, and lunch with Colonel Rhodes. I highly advise that you go back to sleep as no one in the tower is awake yet."

"'K thanks, buddy," he said, mentally calculating how long he'd been asleep.

13 hours.

 _Woah._

"Did not mean to sleep for that long. JARVIS, why didn't you wake me up?" he demanded while shoving his legs into his jeans.

"My apologies, sir, but you seemed like you could use the sleep." Tony could just hear the stubborn edge in the AI's voice and he rolled his eyes.

Finally realizing that the nagging feeling in his stomach was hunger, he decided to take trip down to the kitchen and living room.

He would have barreled into the kitchen looking for the box of mac and cheese (the only dish he knew how to make without burning down the kitchen) if he hadn't seen the single light glowing in the otherwise shadowed corners of the room.

Swallowing, he stepped forward. Tony was too hungry to avoid a meeting with a person who hated him.

The dim light illuminated the tell-tale metal arm of the man staring at a package of Pop-tarts.

 _Oh shit._

They hadn't talked or seen each other since the elevator incident a week ago. He hadn't even had a chance to process their meeting until a days later, after his _own_ panic attack with Steve and- _No. Not going down that lane of thought._

Tony's eyes widened. He stepped back and in the process, knocked over a tower of Tupperware formerly balancing on the counter and winced at the loud crash that followed.

Barnes swiftly turned, somehow a knife in his hand, crouched in a fighting stance.

The genius held his hands up in a gesture of innocence. "Woah, it's okay, dude. Not going to hurt you, just hungry."

The ex-assassin lowered the knife cautiously, keeping his eye on Tony and then straightening to stand awkwardly in the corner.

They stared at each other for a good minute.

Tony decided to be the bigger person, for once, and started. "So… how's life?"

Barnes raised an eyebrow.

"Or not, okay, um, what are you doing awake at like midnight?" he tried.

"What are _you_ doing awake at midnight?" asked Barnes in response.

"Touché, Tin-man, touché," admitted Tony. He crossed the kitchen and opened the cupboard to look for his mac and cheese in an effort to avoid responding.

Then stared.

Because his mac and cheese, _his mac and cheese,_ was on the topmost shelf of the cupboard.

That was Barton for sure. Petty slights were his specialty.

He tried to reach the box anyway, knowing he was going to fall short, which seemed like a metaphor for his life, until: "Need any help with that?"

Tony turned around slowly and scrutinized Barnes. He stood there, a faint smirk on his lips, obviously trying not to laugh.

"No," he stated, narrowing his eyes.

"Okay," said the ex-assassin, holding up his hands, but still stared at Tony as he tried and failed to grasp the box.

After a few minutes of trial and error that Tony would surely regret doing in front of Barnes a few hours later, he gave up. He was _too hungry._

"Okay," said Tony, crossing his arms, "just… just get the box down." He avoided Barnes's eyes but could see him put down his raw Pop-Tart and smirk. He slid past Tony, his metal arm brushing Tony's flesh one.

Easily, he stretched his muscular arm (what?) and grabbed the box. He turned to give it to Tony and the mechanic grudgingly took it and turned away to grab a pan.

Barnes went back to his Pop-Tart, but this time hopped onto the side counter to eat it. He stared at the genius's back.

Tony put the water to boil and stepped back, peeling the cover off the box of mac and cheese.

"Thank you." Tony jumped, startled by the sudden voice.

"For what?" he asked as he turned back to look at the super-soldier.

"For everything, really. For letting me stay, for - you know - helping me with the panic attack last week, and - and everything."

Tony scoffed. "Well the letting you stay here wasn't my decision and my opinion wasn't asked on it so you definitely don't need to be thanking me for that."

"What do you mean?" Barnes frowned.

"What do you mean, what do I mean?"

"Just that… they didn't ask you? Isn't this your home?"

"Well not just mine, but-"

"But it is _your_ tower."

"I mean yes, but-" Tony started again.

"Wow, I never would've imagined a time when Steve himself would become a bully." Barnes shook his head.

" _What?"_

Barnes looked at him intently, then waved it away, "Never mind."

"I- okay?" Tony turned back around to pour the macaroni into the water and furrowed his brow in confusion.

There was silence while Tony watched his meal cool down and scooped it into a bowl.

"So, Barnes…"

"Bucky," he interrupted again.

"Bucky," Tony repeated. He mulled over what he wanted to say and clutched his bowl of mac and cheese like a lifeline. He should probably be nice, right? Inviting Bucky to sit with Tony would be the nice thing to do. And if he had company for one night, that was just… a bonus.

"Wanna watch Star Wars with me?"


	4. Chapter 4

It was surreal.

Sitting next to James Buchanan Barnes and eating Mac and Cheese while watching Star Wars. Tony subtly sneaked a hand to his left arm, pinching the skin slightly to assure himself it wasn't a dream.

It wasn't.

 _Okay then._

He caught a glance of Bucky as he flickered his gaze from the T.V. to his food. His face reflected a sort of fascination and awe.

"Hasn't anybody else showed you movies and T.V. from this generation?" he asked, amused by the expression on Bucky's face.

"Yeah… but not this stuff, I mean, not this sci-fi stuff, ya know?" Now that Tony heard Bucky up close and personal, he could make out the slight twinge of Brooklyn in his voice and it sent unexpected shivers down his spine.

"Huh. Would've thought that was first thing they showed you. I know for a fact they're absurdly into science fiction, even more than me, and that's a feat in of itself."

"I think… I think they didn't wan' me to get triggered from the violence," said Bucky, his focus now solely on Tony.

"Ah," said Tony eloquently. "That makes sense, I guess." He blushed, berating himself for not thinking of that.

"Nah, it really doesn't," scoffed the ex-assassin.

Tony stared at him. His lips quirked up at the edges. "Wow. Do I detect a slight hint of defiance in those pretty blue eyes, soldier?"

Bucky gave him a look, then said, "Pretty blue eyes, Stark? I didn't know you swung that way."

Tony spluttered, a hint of pink appearing on his cheeks.

Smirking faintly, he continued. "They treat me like I'm glass. I don't think they understand, especially Stevie," he rolled his eyes, "that I can handle myself. I mean, I've only survived on my own for 70 years." He looked up at Tony, expecting the man to be agreeing with him.

He clearly wasn't.

"What?" he asked.

"I mean…" he hesitated,"you're important to them." Then furrowed his eyebrows and tried to clarify. "They care about you and, you know, want to make sure you're alright. I'm just saying I get where they're coming from," he finished simply.

Star Wars was now long forgotten and served only the purpose of providing a background to their conversation.

"Huh," said Bucky. He eyed the mechanic critically. "Didn' think you would be on their side."

Tony scoffed. "No, Barnes- Bucky, sorry- I am definitely not on their side. But-" he cut off Barnes with a raised hand. "I can… see where they're coming from- yes, even Steve. To be honest, if I had a best friend who vanished for 70 years and then came back as a master assassin with a massive guilt complex, I think I'd be a little worried too."

"I can handle him being worried! That part's fine, it's even almost, good. But what I can't handle is how Steve suddenly thinks I need to be protected _all the time!_ It's infuriating. If he understands what I've gone through for the past 70 years, shouldn't he know that, you know, as an _assassin,_ I know how to live?" he ranted.

"Do you, though?" Tony asked hesitantly.

Bucky looked back at him incredulously. " _What?"_

He looked down at the leacher couch, mindlessly fingering the edge of a small tear on the arm.

"I just… Do you know how to live? Or do you know how to survive? And I don't mean to be defending Captain Perfect here, and maybe he _is_ going a little overboard, but maybe he's just worried you're thinking it's too much. You're out in the real world now. I haven't seen much of you at all since you moved in, but FRIDAY keeps me updated on what's going on, who leaves, who comes in, that sort of stuff. You've mostly been shut up in your room, Bucky. So… I ask the question again. Do you know how to live, or do you know how to survive?"

Bucky stared. Then bit his lip and turned to face the screen. The sides of his lips quirked up.

"How'd we get from Star Wars to my mental state?" he asked.

Tony recognized the deflection instantly, but decided to let it go. He wasn't Barnes's therapist, after all.

No, not a therapist. But maybe a friend..

"I don't know, Bucky," he said. "I don't know."

* * *

"I'm not calling you Bucky," Tony declared. Bucky's hand halted in its rush to shovel cereal in his mouth. He was sweaty, having just come back from a run. That was something Tony had suggested - he'd had always seen Steve let out his stress either by beating something up or running. He figured the former was probably the better option for Bucky.

It was approximately a month after the night they'd watched Star Wars together, and Tony was pleasantly surprised that he actually liked the presence of Barnes in his tower, if only because he was the only one in the tower that didn't hate him. They'd spent more and more time together during the past month, quietly ignoring the scathing looks from the rest of the team (except Steve, of course, that bastard always seemed happy seeing them together for some reason).

But whatever the circumstances, he knew Rhodey and Pepper appreciated the support in their never-ending crusade to eat more, sleep more, _get out of the lab more._ To Tony's everlasting surprise, Barnes was actually a huge mother hen.

"Oh?" The super-soldier raised an eyebrow.

"It's too… I don't know." Tony, of course, knew the reason very well. 'Bucky' had been Steve's. Steve's best friend, Steve's partner, maybe even Steve's lover. Selfishly, he wanted to have some part of Barnes as his own. "Maybe James?"

Barnes wrinkled his nose and winced. "Hell no."

"No?" He smirked. "Okay, um what about Barney?"

Barnes fixed him with an unamused stare.

"Fine, fine. Jamie?" he suggested, taking a seat on the kitchen counter and looking down at Barnes imploringly.

The ex-assassin contemplated the nickname, chewing his cereal slowly. He nodded, "Actually, I don't mind that one."

"Really?" Tony asked. "You won't take James, but Jamie's fine?"

'Jamie' grinned brilliantly and Tony's stomach flipped. "My mama used to call me James when I got in trouble, which, to be fair, was quite a lot. Hearing that name from you would be…. odd," he finished, cringing.

Tony smiled cheekily and remarked, "Why, you don't think of your mom when you see me?"

Jamie stopped eating and fixed Tony with a smoldering stare, his eyes narrowing. He looked Tony up and down.

"No…" He shook his head slowly, a smirk growing on his face. "I certainly do not."

Tony swallowed.

 _Neither do I, Jamie, neither do I._

* * *

Merry Christmas! Review if you liked it!


	5. Chapter 5

Hello... So. Been a while. Sorry 'bout that. This chapter's mostly fluff and it's short, but you can expect two major things from the next (or next few, I'm not sure) chapter(s): 1. More plot development because that needs to happen. 2. Bucky and Tony finally addressing the elephant in the room before they can move on and get to the good stuff. Aaaaaand I'm gonna leave it at that.

(Also, INFINITY WAR. This fic is obviously AU and there will be no spoilers, but I just thought I should throw that out there. Anyway, goddamn that was a good movie. I may or may not have cried :/ Okay, I'm done now.)

* * *

"I'm done, Steve," Clint yelled.

Tony winced from his position behind the door. He bit his lip and stepped back hesitantly. Maybe he didn't need coffee that badly. It could wait.

"Absolutely, fucking done!"

Yep, the coffee could definitely wait.

"Done with what, Clint?" Steve sounded tired.

"With his bullshit! I mean, he knows we're here, but he still refuses to come up here and acknowledge it. D'you know, he still hasn't properly apologized yet?" hissed Clint.

Tony furrowed his brow. He clearly remembered apologizing - it wasn't a moment he was likely to forget anytime soon, taking its place in the top 10 most humiliating instances in his already quite humiliating life.

Steve seemed to share his confusion. "What do you mean, Clint? He apologized, I was right there. And it's not all on him, Agent Barton," he snapped. "Our side made mistakes as well."

There was a pause, and Tony heard the screeching of a chair being dragged across the floor.

"Tell that to my daughter, Captain," he spat, and stomped his way across the kitchen to the living room.

A wave of guilt washed over Tony and he propped himself up beside the door and leaned his head against the wall. It was true, he was basically the reason Clint couldn't see his wife and children. He was suddenly reminded of when he visited the Barton family to warn them of Ross and the danger they were in. Reminded of an overwhelmed, but hardened mother. Of a cautious, but vulnerable boy. Of a bubbly, but sad little girl.

"Why do they hate him?" Tony's head snapped up at the sound of Jamie's voice. The engineer hadn't realized he was in there.

He heard Steve sigh deeply and say, "It - It's complicated, Buck. It started before this whole thing even happened. It -" He broke off, presumably at a loss for words.

"Ah," said Jamie.

"It's not his fault," said Steve.

"I know."

Tony blinked. He walked back towards the elevator. He wasn't quite sure what to think of what he had just heard. Clint's angry towards him was nothing new, but Steve's blatant defense of Tony definitely was.

"FRIDAY, play some ACDC and bring up the specs for the new suit I was working on," he said absently.

"Yes, sir," she intoned and the loud clashing cymbals of rock music filled the room. The tension in Tony's body slowly seeped away and he slumped in his seat, not entirely sure of what to think of what he saw a couple minutes before.

Jamie didn't know what to think of the people he was living with now. He'd taken to analyzing what he could about them as a distraction from the ongoing clash between his consciousness and the Winter Soldier inside his head and come up with two things:

1\. Either people in this tower didn't care about whose home they were living in or they just hated whose home they were living in. With the exception of Steve (he still couldn't figure out the relationship between the punk and Tony), and Vision, who he hadn't met yet but had been told liked Tony, there seemed to no in between.

2\. He may, just slightly, have developed a minuscule crush on Tony Stark. Which freaked him out just a little because for one, he didn't think he was attracted to the male gender? And secondly, there was the small fact that he had killed Tony's parents.

(Sometimes he'd glance at Tony and be taken back to the moment when he'd delivered the killing blow to Howard Stark and wish more than he ever had for anything that he could have broken Hydra's hold on him for one second, just one second in which he could have stopped himself from pulling the trigger, but then he'd break out of his daze and meet Tony's eyes and feel a rush of guilt because some part of him knew that he didn't want to change the past because it had brought him to where he was now, with Tony.)

(He couldn't meet the man's eyes even hours later.)

He hadn't fallen yet, the crush was still minuscule because he didn't know the genius that well, but there was just something about his warm brown eyes, his cheeky smile, and the way he bit his lip when he was nervous- God. He needed to stop.

Jamie stood outside the lab doors, knocking and yelling at the genius locked in his workshop.

"Tony, come on, either let me in, or come out of the lab," he repeated.

Hearing a relenting grunt from inside, he saw the doors in front of slide open and was greeted with the swoon-inducing sight of a grease covered shirtless Tony Stark, bent over what looked like a piece of metal, and gripping a tool that Jamie had never seen before in his life. His hair lay in messy curls on his head, his arms were streaked with oil and and pants hanging low on his hips and wow, is it hot in here?

Jamie stopped in his tracks. Gulped. Well aware that his face was probably darkening by the second, he cleared his throat and commented offhandedly, "Nice, um, lab." It made sense, he reassured himself. He'd never been inside the lab before and it made absolute sense for him to say that.

Totally.

Tony looked up and gazed at him speculatively with dark chocolate eyes. He looked around the mess his workplace was in. "Thanks, I think?" he replied.

Jamie sputtered, the plate of food in his hand teetering dangerously. "No, no! I didn't mean- I mean, I just meant - like, nice lab as in I've never seen anything like it before, you know?" He ended breathlessly, immediately drawing his drifting eyes away from the mechanic's toned arms.

Said mechanic seemed more interested in the food than anything else, though. He got up from his chair and snatched the plate from Jamie's hands, drooling at the sandwich.

"You know, I would complain and say that you don't need to bring me food, but I'm too hungry so if you could wait just a tad while I stuff myself, it'd be grand." Flashing a brilliant grin that caused Jamie's heart to jump, he gripped the sandwich and took a large bite, moaning almost obscenely.

Jamie stared, wide-eyed, and swallowed thickly. His eyes flickered to gaze at anything but Tony in front of him. He caught sight of Tony turning to face him with raised eyebrows. He broke out of his daze and stammered nervously, "Um, sure, yeah, I can wait, totally, mm-hmm."

His eyebrows still high up on his forehead somewhere under his fringe of hair, Tony looked at him concernedly. "You okay, Jamie? I don't think I've seen you stutter this much ever."

With more effort than it should have, he pulled himself together. "Yeah, Tony, I'm fine. Just was caught off guard by," Jamie searched for something in the lab he could focus on, "all the suits here, how many do you have?"

Tony looked around. "Um, I don't know, I made a whole thing out of destroying most of my suits a couple years ago for Pepper but then, you know, that didn't work out, so. I only have the ones you can see in the lab now."

"Only? There's maybe 30 here, Tony… How many did you have before?"

The genius smiled, a hint of sadness in the curve of his lips. "Around 100, I think?"

Jamie gaped. "How- when - Why?" He simply couldn't understand why Tony would need so many Iron Man suits.

Tony shook his head, seemingly lost in a memory. "It was a bad time," he said simply.

"And now?" asked Jamie, glancing at the half-formed suit on Tony's table. "Is it a… bad time now?"

Broken out of his haze, Tony started to say something but stopped. He kept his eyes on Jamie for a few minutes, both of them in complete silence. Finally, with a slight smile on his face, he said in a soft voice, "I don't know."

Jamie frowned, unsure why Tony was smiling. "Is that a good thing?"

The smile turned into a full-fledged grin. "It's a better answer than I've had in the past few months or even years, so yeah. I think, I think it is a good thing, Jamie."

Jamie's breath caught in his throat and he couldn't help but smile back.

God, he was so screwed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Heyyyy. Ok I know I said there was gonna be plot and stuff and Tony and Bucky are gonna talk (the next chapter is FINALLY from Tony's point of view so that'll happen), but I had to set this up first. And I just really felt like writing some Steve angst. Well, enjoy? I swear, the next chapter's gonna come out faster (I say that like every time)**

 **Also, thank you so much for all the favorites and follows and especially reviews, they totally make my day!**

* * *

Steve knew something about being helpless. Waking up to a harsh new world after 70 years of being frozen in the Arctic Ocean made for quite an overwhelmingly rough year.

But somehow, this was worse.

He still didn't think the accords were right, there would be too much power in the hands of people who could be easily corrupted, but he also hadn't known that Tony was simply playing for time until he could fix them _with_ the support of the team. _Or so he had thought_.

Now, Tony wouldn't talk to him (not that Steve could blame him), Bucky was pushing him away, and Steve was left alone to ponder just how many lives he had ruined in his emotional haze. Tony, Rhodes, Clint, Natasha, Wanda, not to mention the innocent civilians who were hurt in their petty fights. Sometimes Steve wondered how fragile their bond must have been to be shattered so easily by the likes of Zemo. He used to think he'd found his home, used to think he'd found a place to belong with these people, these people who were just as broken, just as confused, and just as lonely as him.

How fragile was his bond with Tony? They had become somewhat friends after The Battle of New York, even if it was only tentative. Then Ultron broke that hesitant trust. Steve regretted accepting Tony's resignation back then, he regretted not checking up on him, he regretted… sometimes he even regretted allowing Wanda into the Avengers.

Steve regretted a lot of things.

So when he curls up in the corner of his bathroom, shivering, rocking himself back and forth, his heartbeat loud in his ears and a pain in his chest, _but still unable to cry_ , he reminds himself of just how much he regrets.

He sat on the kitchen table. His hands gripped the cup of coffee and he stared down into the depths of the black liquid, wondering if the scalding liquid on his hand would rid him of the pain he felt inside for a few blissful seconds.

And then Steve's hand jerked and he set the cup down gently on the counter. He sighed, closing his eyes. When he opened them, he saw the blurry silhouette of a red-haired woman in front of him. He closed his eyes again.

She didn't say anything, but Steve knew what she was asking. "I'm fine, Nat."

She hummed in response. He felt something touch his hand, and he looked down to see her wiping the spilt coffee from the pristine white marble of the table. She threw away the cloth, and sat herself down next to him.

He didn't dare look up.

"Have you gone to the gym today?" she asked. Steve jumped off the stool and walked to the sink, where he put the cup down and washed his hands.

"No," he said.

She hummed again. "Come on, then."

Steve slammed his hands down on the counter he was leaning on with a loud _slap_ , still refusing to look at her. "I'm fine, Natasha. And I'm not going to the gym." He walked past her, his jaw clenched and body tense. He was almost at the elevator when he heard her scoff.

"Oh, grow up, Rogers." Her voice was laced with frustration and anger. "You think you're the only one suffering here?"

There was a small silence before Steve couldn't help but respond. He turned around and finally met her eyes. Ignoring the dark circles and pale complexion and the fact that she was wearing _sweatpants_ , he shot back a response bitterly. "At least _you_ know he doesn't hate you."

It was a testament to the whole shitty situation that Natasha didn't even pretend not to know who he was talking about.

"Oh, right, yeah. I only abandoned him when he needed me most, losing his trust, his friendship, and maybe even my home. But at least I know he doesn't hate me, right?" she spat.

Steve stared at her. He'd never seen the Black Widow come undone before, but he knew it was his fault this time. Guilt settled into his stomach once more and he swallowed heavily. He took a step towards her, deciding to ignore that sharp words she had flung at him, and asked gently, "You okay, Nat?"

She bit her lip, searching his face for any deception.

"I've felt worse than this, you know," she started.

"Oh?" said Steve.

"When Clint saved me from the Red Room, I didn't know how to live. It had been ingrained me to do things a certain way, and when he showed me how wrong they were, I was lost."

Steve realized it wasn't just him who knew something about being helpless. He waited for her to continue.

"Eventually, I regained some semblance of control over my life, but I was still working with SHIELD and I was keenly aware that any shred of control I had could easily be taken away. Clint knew the same, but we had each other and it was fine. We were fine.

"Then New York happened and Coulson died, Clint was left reeling after Loki fucked up his mind, and Tony invited us to live with him. We said no, at first, but then realized it'd be the best way we could keep an eye on him. You moved in, then…" She struggled with the next name. "Bruce, he was there, and Thor showed up, and it was good." Natasha looked up at him, and smiled sadly. "It was good. The first time me and Clint ever felt like we had a family, I think."

"Now Clint's acting like a jerk, stuck deep in denial, I haven't seen Bruce in years, I alienated Tony, and nobody's talked to each other in months. It took… so long before Tony let himself trust me again, Steve. 'Iron Man yes, Tony Stark not recommended.' I don't know what I was thinking." She shook her head, her head hung low and her body curled up and small.

Blinking a couple times, Natasha smirked shakily up at him. "Now that I've done my part in this heart-to-heart, it's your turn, Cap. Why are you in such a mood? You've gotten what you wanted, haven't you? Where's Barnes?"

He could tell she was half-kidding, but it still struck a chord in him. Hadn't he gotten what he wanted? He'd been fighting for Bucky and he had him back, but he wasn't happy. How could he be happy when he had to live with the sight of Tony gasping for air in the snow in Siberia, clutching his chest, his eyes rolling upwards, the perfect picture of helplessness and desperation? How could he be happy when he had to live with the thought that he'd _walked away_ from him?

So, as he looked at Natasha's messy hair, her anguished eyes, and thought of Tony having a panic attack in the corner of the hallway, crying messily and apologizing and blaming himself for this massive fuckup, he collapsed on the stool he'd been sitting on and put his head in his hands.

"I think I've made a huge mistake, Nat."

* * *

Clint watched Natasha rubbing Cap's back as he sobbed into his hands and he clenched his fists from where he stood near the door.

He could count on one hand the amount of times Natasha had talked to him after the fight. They used to be able to communicate with a simple roll of the eyes, now Clint didn't know whether she would ever look him in the face again.

But he knew exactly whose fault it was, and what he would do to fix it.

The archer needed to talk to Wanda, but somehow he didn't think she would be against to what he suggested.

Clint nodded to himself and left Steve and Natasha alone.

After all, he had to find a way to see his family again, and the only way he could do that was by showing Stark just how much he would do for them.


	7. Chapter 7

Hey guys! It's been a while, I know, I'm really sorry but life's been very very hectic for the past few months... But the support this fic has gotten keeps me going :) This chapter's not from Tony's point of view sorry... Leave a review if you liked it!

* * *

 _It was the same road. Always the same road._

 _He got off the bike and pull out his gun from the holster. He walked to the side and stopped when he met the eyes of the man crushed under the car._

 _Howard Stark, his mind supplied. Target acquired._

 _He cocked the gun and aimed it at Stark's head. The man's eyes widened as he struggled to look closer at the assassin. His brows furrowed and he exhaled shakily._

 _Swallowing, Stark whispered, "Bucky?"_

 _He stopped. Blinked. Frowned._

 _"Bucky? Is that you?" Stark pulled himself out of the wreckage as much as he could, and instantly, the Soldier's gun was up._

 _He thought for a second._

 _Then squeezed the trigger._

 _Stark collapsed back to the ground, motionless and still._

 _He turned to leave but heard the faint gasp of another person._

 _"Howard? Howard, no! No!" A woman's heart-wrenching screams were heard from under the car._

 _"Howard! HOWARD!"_

"Jamie."

 _In one smooth move, the Winter Soldier gripped his gun and pulled the safety off, pointing it at the direction of the voice._

 _He was faced with the tear-streaked face of Maria Stark, who abruptly stopped yelling when she saw him. The blood drained out of her face and she went still._

 _"Bucky?"_

"James."

 _He furrowed his brow, considering whether he should shoot her. She continued to stare at him, mouth gaping. His eyes followed the movement of her throat as she swallowed._

 _She moved her hand towards her husband._

"Bucky!"

He shot.

James's eyes opened, accompanied by a strangled gasp. In a daze, he fought against the hands on him, pushing and punching until he was sprawled on the cold floor, his legs brought up to his face, breathing heavily into the crevice where his knees met. His hands curled around his torso and he gripped his shirt with trembling fingers. His uneven breaths were the only sound in the room.

James flinched slightly when he sensed someone lowering themselves to sit beside him. He refused to see who it was and selfishly hoped it wasn't Steve.

"There's a boy I know." He recognized the voice as Tony and his shoulders dropped in relief. "He's great, amazing, better than I'll ever be, to be completely honest. Above all, he's good. His name's Peter. I haven't talked to him in a while, got a little distracted with figuring out the last few logistics of the Accords, all of you guys moving in, and everything. But he calls me. Leaves voicemails. Keeps me going, you know?" said Tony softly. James felt his gaze on the side of his face. His hands unclenched on his shirt, but he stayed in his locked position on the floor. "Breathe, James," Tony said, forcefully.

James breathed.

"How old is he?" he asked, trying to keeping the conversation going.

Tony shifted his gaze to one of his Iron Man suits encased in a glass box in the corner.

Oh. James was in the workshop then.

"He's fifteen. Almost sixteen. Birthday's in about a month."

James nodded, but he didn't know where Tony was going with this. He voiced his confusion in a whispered croak to Tony, who didn't move his eyes from where they were.

"Peter… When he was fourteen, he took a trip with his class to Oscorp. Got bit by a radioactive spider, gained spider powers, took on the mantle of Spider-Man," explained Tony.

And suddenly James thought he knew exactly where Tony was going with this.

"I recruited him. I went to his house, lied to his aunt, convinced him to fight in an insane battle that I knew could result in him getting hurt or dying, but I was too desperate. Somehow I'd convinced myself that I was doing what I had to do, that I had no other choice, but I did." He paused, his head dropping to look at his feet. "I did."

"Tony-" started James.

"I know, what does this have to do with anything? I don't know." He looked James in the eyes. "Just thought I'd give you the whole story before you start questioning how they treat me."

James frowned. Realized that they had to have this conversation now, there was now pushing it back. "In my dream, I murdered your parents," he said simply.

Tony squeezed his eyes shut. "Jam-"

"No. Let me talk. We've been avoiding this for a while, Tony. We can't not talk about this anymore.

"I killed your mom. Even if I was under the control of Hydra, even if it wasn't actually me, it was these hands that shot your mother, Tony, and I need you to understand that. I need you to understand that everything that happened before was a shit-show with mistakes on both sides, I need you to understand that it was a desperate situation that called for desperate measures and I don't blame you for it, even if calling Peter wasn't maybe the best decision you could have made. I need you to understand that it wasn't all your fault," he finished, panting, with his hands firmly holding Tony's arms. Tony's eyes were wide and vulnerable.

James let go of Tony's arms, but he kept his gaze locked on to the man in front of him. He sighed and reached his hand up to cup Tony's face gently. Unconsciously, Tony leaned into his touch.

"James, I…" He seemed to struggle to take a breath in. "I… I don't… know…" was all he managed to get out before surging in to smash his lips against James's.

James's eyes fluttered shut and he slowly relaxed into Tony's lips. One of his hands gripped Tony's waist and the other buried itself in his hair as he deepened the kiss.

Tony surged up to press his body to James's and he moans into Tony's mouth, knowing in the back of his mind that he should break it off, neither of them were in any state to go further.

James pulled away, panting. He took in Tony, debauched, eyes wild, lips swollen, hair a disaster and cheeks blushing red. He smiled. Tony was beautiful.

Tony stumbled back, banging into every tool on his way, looking everywhere except at James.

"We shouldn't have done that," he said, his voice calm. He closed his eyes, sighing. "God, we shouldn't have done that."

"Tony-"

"Leave, please."

James gaped at the engineer. "Tony-"

"James, please leave now."

"No," said James, standing his ground. "It's okay, Tony-"

Tony shook his head as if to clear it. "Fine. Fine. I'll leave then."

And he fled out of the lab.

James smashed his human arm on the table, and the white-hot pain that shot through his hands and fingers was almost enough to overpower the pain in his heart.

Almost.

* * *

"Clint?" Wanda said, surprised, "What are you doing here?"

"Hey, Wanda. Can I come in?"

Wanda opened the door to let him inside her room and then closing it softly after checking outside to see if anyone was there. She went to sit on the bed and then looked up at her mentor expectantly. "What is it?"

Jaw clenched, and eyes hard, Clint spoke, "We have to talk about Stark."

Wanda's expression cleared and the slightest hint of a smile grew on her face. She crossed her legs and tilted her head. "What do you want to do?" she asked.

"He has to be punished. What we went through at the Raft…" he stopped, took a deep breath in. "He has to be punished," Clint repeated. "And I need your help to do it."

The smile on Wanda's face melted away at the mention of the Raft and her lips pursed.

"I'll ask again, Clint. What do you want to do?"

Clint straightened, his hands periodically clenching and unclenching. He'd thought about this for a long time.

"It seems that many of us have forgotten exactly what Stark has done," he said, thinking of the way Natasha had talked with Steve earlier. "And they've begun to," he paused, looking for the right word, "sympathize with him."

Wanda raises her eyebrows.

"They have to realize who he is. And what he's done," finished Clint.

Wanda blinks. "Isolation," she said. "You want me to change how they think about him."

"He doesn't deserve their sympathy, Wanda. He doesn't deserve anything." His voice broke on the last word and he cleared his throat. "I need you to find out what he knows about Laura and the kids too, and report back to me."

The witch looked at him, eyes flickering over the sunken bags under his eyes and the hard set of his mouth. "Okay," she said softly. "I can do that for you, Clint."

Clint nodded curtly and backed out of the room just to catch a glimpse of Stark leaving the tower.

Stark met his eyes for a split second and something cracked in Clint.

He looked away.


End file.
